


both of us monstrous

by Kalgalen



Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: M/M, Manipulation, Some Angst with a Happy Ending, Web!Martin
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-21
Updated: 2019-05-21
Packaged: 2020-03-09 05:18:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,318
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18910342
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kalgalen/pseuds/Kalgalen
Summary: He's felt the change during the past few weeks. First, it had just been a subtle alteration in the air - a kind of slight tension, only noticeable because it came on the heels of Peter Lukas' pernicious apathy. For a few days, Jon doesn't think much of it; perhaps they've finally managed to bond enough as a team that they don't make as easy of a prey for the Lonely. He allows himself to feel smug.That is, of course, a mistake.





	both of us monstrous

**Author's Note:**

  * For [cerisiers_roses_pommiers_blancs](https://archiveofourown.org/users/cerisiers_roses_pommiers_blancs/gifts).



> lottie: what if jon told martin he needed him  
> me: what if it was s a d

He's felt the change during the past few weeks. First, it had just been a subtle alteration in the air - a kind of slight tension, only noticeable because it came on the heels of Peter Lukas' pernicious apathy. For a few days, Jon doesn't think much of it; perhaps they've finally managed to bond enough as a team that they don't make as easy of a prey for the Lonely. He allows himself to feel smug.

That is, of course, a mistake.

Then, he finds himself taken by bizarre whims - getting up for food even though he's told himself it could wait until he was done with that particular pile of books, or having his feet guide him to his cot when he still has work to do, his internal protests drowned under the strange impulse and his own exhaustion. He leaves rooms with a sense of urgency, then forgets what guided him out in the first place; he'd blame it on his own mental state if it wasn't for the fact that the others report having experienced the same thing.

"It's like I'm going nuts," Melanie says, grinding her teeth. "I'm sitting in that corridor, waiting for Helen to show up, and all of a sudden I just - I needed to go away. I needed to go check something in the library, but when I got there I just -" she lets out a frustrated grown. "Is this it? Is that place finally driving me mad?"

Jon glances at Daisy, who gives him back a telling look. Neither of them answer for a long minute. Then Daisy says, slowly:

"It's not just you. There's something weird happening."

Melanie barks out a slightly hysterical laugh. "Oh, you think?"

"Not - typical weird. This isn't something the Eye would do, correct?" she asks, cocking an eyebrow at Jon. "Or the Lonely?"

Jon shakes his head. "No. Involuntary movements would be -" he freezes, and suddenly the tapes covered in spider silk he's been receiving don't seem as innocuous. "- the Web. I - yes. Manipulation both physical and mental is its domain, so it would make sense -"

"What, are they invading us too?" Melanie asks aggressively. There's an echo of that unnatural rage back into her eyes, in the nervous tremors shaking her frame. "They've waited all this time, and only now they've decided to give it a shot?"

"I - I don't think that's the case," Jon says, though he's not sure why he's so positive of it. He just Knows.

Daisy and Melanie don't ask either, and simply stare at him expectantly. Jon sighs, rubs his eyes.

"I'll look into it, alright? I don't think we're into any danger."

The two women exchange a look, and he can tell they have doubts.

To be fair, he does too.

* * *

 There's been more and more spiderwebs throughout the Institute as of late, and Jon can't help but think it is because they're beginning to feel at home. He's started to be able to pinpoint the moments when his will starts not being his own, and even though the influence is never nefarious - quite the opposite, actually - he trains himself to resist it, little by little.

He's starting to have an inkling of who is responsible for it, as well, and his suspicions are confirmed one night, as he resists the sudden drive to vacate the corridor where he's last confronted Martin. He stubbornly stays cross-legged on the floor, brows furrowed with the effort not to let his body simply get up and leave; after a moment, he hears faint footsteps around the corner - but he's barely got the time to try and twist his neck to see who's coming, before he hears a gasp, and feels his head caught in an invisible grasp that keeps him from looking anywhere but straight ahead.

Jon doesn't move for long minutes after the footsteps have quickly faded again; first frozen in place by the ethereal threads, then by shock and guilt.

_Shit._

* * *

  _"Stop finding me,"_   Martin had said; but it was out of some obedience toward Peter Lukas, wasn't it? And Martin obviously isn't playing the Lonely's game anymore.

At least, that's what Jon tells himself as he, once again, sits down in the middle of the Archives, and Looks. Not for a statement, this time, but for someone who doesn't want to be found. It's gotten easier lately, to extend his Vision past his body, Eyes seeking their target through the Institute's corridor like fingers searching for a particular book on a shelf. Even though, he can't seem to be able to find Martin; the presence of the Lonely lingers through the building like persistent scraps of fog, clouding his senses in some places.

And suddenly - he can feel it. The presence right behind him, simultaneously familiar and alien, smelling of longing and resignation and resolve. Jon immediately gets up - tries to, at least. The thin filaments he hadn't realized had accumulated on him keep him solidly tethered to the ground, and he can only breathe out deeply, and yield.

"Martin," he says simply.

“Why,” comes Martin's voice, shaking - from anger, or from fear, or a complex mix of the two - “why do you keep doing that? Why do you keep looking for me?”

Jon had wanted this to be a simple, calm conversation; he was going to do this right, for once. Those good resolutions go right out the window as soon as Martin starts speaking, his patience instantly worn thin by the web restricting his movements and the exasperation in Martin’s tone.

“Oh,” he snaps back, “I'm really sorry you think it's getting old, but I was worried. And apparently I was right to be!”

"Oh, come on -" he hears Martin sign behind him, and he wants to turn, to look at him, but his body won't move.

Won't move without Martin's say-so, that is.

Martin appears in his field of vision, dragging shadows behind him - eight-limbed, for a second, before Jon's eyes focus on his crossed arms. He doesn't look any different from usual, otherwise - not half-wrapped in cobwebs, not crawling with hundreds of tiny black bodies.

"Why won't you just trust me?" Martin questions plaintively, and Jon strains under the bonds - would try to, if his muscles would only respond.

"I did trust you," he bites out. "I trusted you with Peter Lukas, I thought you know what you were doing - but _this?"_

Martin huffs, running a hand through his hair. "I had a good reason, alright?"

"And what kind of reason would that be?" Jon challenges; Martin avoids Jon's gaze, and starts pacing the room instead.

“Elias and Peter seemed to think I was going to have to pick between them two - they were so confident that they were the only choice I had, so sure one of them would have me,” Martin says, the resentment almost palpable in his voice. “Then Elias said something about me liking to manipulate people - and he was probably just trying to get to me, but it made me realize I had a third option.”

“The Web,” Jon says numbly. Martin nods.

“Right. I got tired of feeling like a pawn - so I became a player.”

“By giving yourself away to a Power we don't know the motivations of?”

Martin laughs humorlessly.

“I was always going to fall to one of them. At least that one doesn't want me to crawl at its feet. At least that one makes me feel _needed_.”

Jon almost chokes on the irony of the situation. “Need - Martin, _I_ need you!”

“You only need me because I want you to!” The edge of despair in Martin's voice tears mercilessly through Jon’s heart. “That's how it works now, that's what I am!”

“Are you manipulating my feelings?”

“I'm not _trying_ to!”

“Alright. Alright.” Jon breathes in, trying to stay level-headed. “Can you just consider for one moment that I might be telling the truth, then? I am literally an Avatar of Knowledge, can't you trust me to _know_ what I'm feeling?”

Martin stops pacing and glances at him; Jon can see the doubt in his eyes, how much he wants to believe.

“I - I don't think I'm even a person anymore. Why would you want me around?”

Jon gives a dry laugh. “You're speaking to someone who hasn't been fully human in years. Find something else.”

Martin takes a step toward him, then another, stumbling until he's right there, kneeling in front of Jon’s frozen body.

“I’m going to have to hurt people,” he says, and his voice isn't shaking, though it's obviously due to an effort on his part.

This gives Jon pause. Saying he's unhappy about that new development would be an understatement, but he can't change the past. All he can do now is convince Martin he doesn't have to do this alone.

“I hurt people everyday, whether I want it or not," he says quietly. "Did you know I compelled someone into telling me their worst secret?”

Martin gives him a look somewhere between horrified and fascinated. “You did?”

“And I enjoyed it. So, you know. You're not that far gone yet.”

It feels - strange, and a bit mortifying to confess this to someone else - but it seems to put Martin more at ease, though he still has a hard time looking Jon in the eye.

"I've been manipulating you," Martin admits. "And - other people in the Institute. Because I didn't want them to see me, and because it felt - right. It felt _good."_

Jon snorts. "As far as I can tell, you've only send us on wild goose chase. That's hardly gruesome."

"You know it's not going to stay that way," Martin says reproachfully, and Jon sighs.

"Look, I've been in your shoes. Don't you think I'm scared I'm going to loose myself too? I felt myself changing, I know I'm not the person I was - before. I might not have killed anyone, but I - I've let people die, I made decisions that were driven by my need to know more than by any sort of human conscience."

"I -" Martin looks very tired, all of a sudden, and drags a hand across his face before mumbling: "I take people's free will away. I feel like it's a bit worse than _supernatural curiosity,_ Jon."

Jon is about to remind Martin of those statements present in the Archives that describe exactly how "supernatural curiosity" can kill - but he stops himself before he can even start, and squints. “Hold on. Are we - are we really…?” He trails off, unsure of how to formulate his thought.

Martin stares at him questioningly, before he finally understands what Jon is trying to say.

“...arguing which one of us is the scariest monster?" Martin finishes for him. "I think we might be.”

Jon lets out a disbelieving chuckle. “Our lives really have taken a turn for the weirdest.”

“Oh, you hadn't realized yet?”

They share a quiet laugh, and just like that, the tension dissipate. After a moment of comfortable - if baffled - silence, Jon speaks up:

“Martin, would you mind…?”

He looks down on himself, and Martin immediately picks up on what he means.

“Of course! Sorry.” He rubs his hands together, and Jon feels the invisible ties vanish; he shakes himself as soon as he's regained full control of his limbs, sighing in relief.

“Sorry,” Martin mumbles again. Jon dismisses him with a wave.

“It's fine.”

It's not, not really, but that's a can of worms he’ll open another day. Martin is looking at him with an odd expression on his face - one of careful hope, if Jon had to guess.

“Um -” he starts, then looks away, hesitant. Jon waits, comforted by the familiar timidity. “What did you really mean? When you said you needed me?”

“Oh.” It's Jon’s turn to look away, because he _did_ say that, didn't he? It had just - burst out, as true and inevitable as if it had been compelled out of him. He's gotten better at keeping in touch with his feelings, so he should be able to do that, right?

He takes a deep breath, and closes his eyes. “I meant I need you - I need you to be around. I need to make sure you're okay, and to be able to help if you're not. These past few months have been driving be crazy, I couldn't stop - thinking about you, and worrying, and missing you, and I want - I want you to be here, and I want to be here for you in return. If that's - something you'd like as well, of course,” he adds quickly at the end of his tirade.

He risks a glance in Martin's direction; the man looks dumbstruck, and quite shocked. Jon deflates.

“Right. Right, of course. I should -”

He tries to get up to leave, but Martin’s hand shoots up, grabbing his wrist.

“Please don't go,” Martin says pleadingly, and Jon sits back down. “I - if it's something I'd like? Jon, you realize everything I've done, I’ve done it for you, right? Including - this,” he says, gesturing to himself. Jon makes a face.

“Yes. I wish you hadn't.”

Martin shrugs. “You’ve made that clear. What I'm trying to say, though - Jon, everything I've ever done since I met you was for you. I just - never thought you'd realize. I never thought I'd get that lucky.”

Jon feels terrible, for a moment, about everything he's put Martin through - about the fact that he'd needed to almost lose him to realize how much he mattered. Jon hesitates, before extracting his wrist from Martin’s grasp, lacing their fingers together instead.

"I need you," he says again - but there's a different word under his tongue, one he isn't sure would be welcomed yet - so he keeps it there, and squeezes Martin's hand instead, willing him to understand.

If he's not mistaken, the way Martin squeezes back says he does.

"I need you too."


End file.
